This complete resignation and tranquillity4 of a man whose life had been so full of violence, protest, and howling fury stunned5 and silenced them and left them helpless. It seemed that Gant, knowing that often he had lived badly, was now determined6 to die well. And in this he succeeded. He accepted every ministration, every visit, every stammering7 reassurance8, or frenzied9 activity, with a passive gratefulness which he seemed to want everyone to know. On the evening of the day after his first h?morrhage, he asked for food and Eliza, bustling10 out, pathetically eager to do something, killed a chicken and cooked it for him.
And as if, from that infinite depth of death and silence from which he looked at her, he had seen, behind the bridling11 brisk activity of her figure, for ever bustling back and forth12, saying confusedly — “Why, yes! The very thing! This very minute, sir!”— had seen the white strained face, the stricken eyes of a proud and sensitive woman who had wanted affection all her life, had received for the most part injury and abuse, and who was ready to clutch at any crust of comfort that might console or justify13 her before he died — he ate part of the chicken with relish14, and then, looking up at her, said quietly:
“I tell you what — that was a good chicken.”
And Helen, who had been sitting beside him on the bed, and feeding him, now cried out in a tone of bantering15 and good-humoured challenge:
“What! Is it better than the ones I cook for you? You’d better not say it is — I’ll beat you if you do.’”
And Gant, grinning feebly, shook his head, and answered:
“Ah-h! Your mother is a good cook, Helen. You’re a good cook, too — but there’s no one else can cook a chicken like your mother!”
And stretching out his great right hand, he patted Eliza’s worn fingers with his own.
And Eliza, suddenly touched by that word of unaccustomed praise and tenderness, turned and rushed blindly from the room at a clumsy bridling gait, clasping her hands together at the wrist, her weak eyes blind with tears — shaking her head in a strong convulsive movement, her mouth smiling a pale tremulous smile, ludicrous, touching16, made unnatural17 by her false teeth, whispering over and over to herself, Poor fellow! Says, ‘There’s no one else can cook a chicken like your mother.’ Reached out and patted me on the hand, you know. Says ‘I tell you what, there’s no one who can cook a chicken like your mother.’ I reckon he wanted to let me know, to tell me, but says, ‘The rest of you have all been good to me, Helen’s a good cook, but there’s no one else can cook like your mother.’”
“Oh, here, here, here!” said Helen, who, laughing uncertainly had followed her mother from the room when Eliza had rushed out, and had seized her by the arms, and shook her gently, “good heavens! HERE! You mustn’t carry on like this! You mustn’t take it this way! Why, he’s all right!” she cried out heartily18 and shook Eliza again. “Papa’s going to be all right! Why, what are you crying for?” she laughed. “He’s going to get well now — don’t you know that?”
And Eliza could say nothing for a moment but kept smiling that false trembling and unnatural smile, shaking her head in a slight convulsive movement, her eyes blind with tears.
“I tell you what,” she whispered, smiling tremulously again and shaking her head, “there was something about it — you know, the way he said it — says, ‘There’s no one who can come up to your mother’— there was something in the way he said it! Poor fellow, says, ‘None of the rest of you can cook like her’— says, ‘I tell you what, that was certainly a good chicken’— Poor fellow! It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he said it — there was something about it that went through me like a knife — I tell you what it did!”
“Oh, here, here, here!” Helen cried again, laughing. But her own eyes were also wet, the bitter possessiveness that had dominated all her relations with her father, and that had thrust Eliza away from him, was suddenly vanquished. At that moment she began to feel an affection for her mother that she had never felt before, a deep and nameless pity and regret, and a sense of sombre satisfaction.
“Well,” she thought, “I guess it’s all she’s had, but I’m glad she’s got that much to remember. I’m glad he said it: she’ll always have that now to hang on to.”
And Gant lay looking up from that sunken depth of death and silence, his great hands of living power quiet with their immense and passive strength beside him on the bed.
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1
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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2
consigned
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| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
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3
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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4
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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5
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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6
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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7
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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8
reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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9
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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10
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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11
bridling
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的现在分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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12
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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13
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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14
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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15
bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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16
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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17
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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18
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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